Page 19 of The Alpha's Reclaimed Mate

“What’s this? A new punching bag?” he taunted.

I stood straighter, holding my ground despite all instincts screaming at me to run. “Last time you thought that that punching bag kicked your ass. I think you should get your eyes checked,” I reminded him.

Preston wrinkled his nose. The soldiers behind him howled with laughter.

“Damn, dude! Are you gonna take that from the Reject?” they shouted. “Reclaim your honor, bro! She ain’t worth shit now!”

Cracking his knuckles, Preston rapidly closed the distance between us and stood over me. “Last time, I went easy on you because you’re my girlfriend’s little sister and because I thought it wouldn’t look good if I beat up my future Alpha Female. But you threw that all away, didn’t you? Now there’s nothing stopping me from punching your little twerp ass into the ground.”

Was he really going to take revenge for losing during my final combat exam?

I’d beaten him once. I could beat him again, right?

Uncertainty coiled in my stomach. Preston lunged, and I dodged out of the way, narrowly avoiding his massive shoulder. Then he spun on his heel and faced me, and I kicked him hard in the stomach. He grabbed my ankle and wrenched my foot up high, sending me to the ground. My eyes widened in shock. I didn’t expect to be grounded so quickly, nor for emotions to well up so suddenly in my throat, heat in my cheeks, and tears prickling my eyes.

“Oh, what’s the matter? You gonna cry like you always do?” he teased, then picked me up by my shirt, only to throw me back to the ground and laugh. “You didn’t think you were actually any good at fighting, did you?”

Rolling onto my side, I propped myself up and coughed. “I was good enough to complete all my training!”

“That’s all that was—training! You’ve never been in a real fight!” Preston stared down at me. “Tell me you didn’t come here thinking you could be a soldier like the rest of us!”

That’s exactly what I was hoping for. But now I couldn’t bring myself to say it, not with Preston mocking me. Doubt filled my mind.

“Stupid, pathetic little runt!” Preston wound back a foot, ready to kick me before one of the Lieutenants observing the training arena stepped forward.

“That’s enough!” shouted Mr. Ross. “Preston, step down!”

Preston’s foot slammed onto the ground. “Lucky bitch,” he snarled at me.

As Preston stepped away, Mr. Ross shoved past him, providing a barrier between me and the soldiers. “All of you get back to training. Now!”

The soldiers grumbled and retreated. Mr. Ross’ expression was shrouded in dismay, and his fists tightened. “Get up, Aria.”

I did as I was told, my head hanging.

“I can’t have you coming in here and disrupting their training. You need to leave.”

It was already too late for me to stop my tears. Try as I may to wipe them away, they kept flowing, so I peered up at Mr. Ross and fought for my voice. “You know I can fight!”

Mr. Ross’ shoulders sank for just a moment. He looked at me like he was considering it, then his face hardened again, and he shook his head. “You won’t keep a low profile by being here. This isn’t your place. Your skills are best applied elsewhere, Aria.”

It was the nicest way somebody had told me to fuck off so far, but all the same, it was yet another rejection. Both my body and heart were sore.

I walked away from him, rapidly losing hope that I’d ever find my place in the pack.

Chapter 8: Aria

After thinking long and hard about it, I decided to try one more person. I knew I was setting myself up for disappointment, but I was running out of options. Everybody else already rejected me. What was one more rejection?

I sat outside her office for thirty minutes, listening to the muffled conversation within, until the door opened and somebody stepped out. Standing, I poked my head into Mrs. Foster’s door and mustered a weak smile. “Hi, Mrs. Foster.”

The older woman looked up in surprise. “Aria. What are you doing here?”

“I was just wondering if you might need some help around here.”

The longer she stared at me, the worse I felt until her expression softened with sympathy, and she gestured for me to take a seat. “I take it the past few days have been rather rough on you.”

Just hearing her acknowledge that made me want to cry, but I’d already spent all my tears for the day. I was back to feeling empty inside like a void existed where my heart should. Sitting across from Mrs. Foster, I accepted her look of sympathy as one made out of necessity. She probably didn’t care any more than anybody else did.

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